Harry Potter and the HalfBlood Prince
by Ferret 3136
Summary: Well, this is the first chapter so far. I'm not quite sure if the rating is good for it, but it is so far. Well, it's pretty depressing and all of that, OotP spoilers.
1. Explanation

Yay! Author's note.

Well, it's been a while since I've actually uploaded a story.

A very long while.

Well, let's just say I'm not really someone who uploads that often, I did have a story up there, but it bored me, so I've started to write another one.

As you can tell, it's basically my version on the 6th Harry Potter book. It's a competition my friends and I are having, to see who gets closest to the real thing.

My goal, actually, is to get as far away from the book as possible. Erm, not with this story, but with another. So, if I ever feel like writing an incredibly nasty story, then I might start on it.

Basically… you might not want to read it if you were someone who doesn't like sexual references. Heh… let's just say I got good ideas when my friends read the first chapter, they gave me wonderful ideas… smirk

Well, um, right.

Ferret3136


	2. Chapter One

The silence was absolute, the darkness unnerving, and the pain unreal. He wasn't sure if the dream was real. It seemed real enough.

He felt distant, half-way real and half-way imagined. Semiconscious. His head wavered, or at least he thought it had, he felt… sick, lightheaded, nauseous. The room he was in was unbearably hot, yet was so cold at the same time. There were no windows, or any light source which he could see. His feet were bare and the floor felt strange to him. He heard a door open, slowly, a light filter in though the darkness. He felt his dream-self waver and then his vision blur. He fell to the floor.

The oh-so-familiar scream of his mother filled his head, pounding endlessly at his feeble thoughts, shattering every last one. He was filled with dread.

_Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!_

Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…

Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —

His head felt three times heavier, it felt like his heart had packed its bags and moved up there, pounding endlessly against his skull.

_Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy…_

Harry Potter woke up to the usual nightmare, drenched in sweat, his forehead burning. A small tear ran down his face. So many people had died for him to live. He hoped he was ready for what was to come.

Harry Potter was the spitting image of his father. Unruly black hair, tall frame, and had a knack for Quidditch. The only difference was that he had the eyes of his mother, dazzling green eyes, filled with compassion. It was the summer break, and today was his birthday. He sighed contentedly, and lay down on his bed. His bare feet dangled off the edge. He stuck his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

A tapping at the window brought his attention away from the blank ceiling. He turned his head and saw three owls, all staring at him impatiently. He quickly got up and unlatched the window letting the three birds in.

Errol dropped his package, a bit discouraged, and flopped onto Harry's bed, his feathers a mess. Hedwig placed her package on top of Errol's and went to her cage to have a bit of rest. Pig flew up eagerly and held out his tiny leg, chirruping happily. Harry shushed him and he just continued to chirrup while Harry undid the letters attached to his leg. Pig flew off to rest for a bit, picking at a bag of owl treats.

Harry randomly picked a letter out of the pile and tore the envelope open. It was his Hogwarts letter, written, oddly enough, in red ink. He shuddered and noticed an extra page. He tossed the other two away and started to read the last one.

_As many of you know, and as many of you shudder as you read this, the dark lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has come back to power. The school will be under heavy guard, no longer having any outside classes and few Quidditch games. There will be some simple and some complex changes during this school year._

There will be a new defense class added onto the regular one. This one will test you physically, as you might need to have more than just your wand in the future.

Students will go straight to their common rooms after dinner, there will be no late night studying in the library. Also, there will be no more outside visits and any outside classes will be either canceled or moved indoors.

Anyone who disobeys these rules or other rules, will be either get detention for a week with the Potions Master (since he has so gracefully volunteered) or will spend time in the trophy room with Mr. Filch.

These rules will be in effect whenever school comes back in session. Be safe for the rest of the summer and keep your wits about you.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Harry cast a glance at his trunk, thinking of all of the times that he had gone out at night and how stupid it had been. He tossed the paper on top of the rest of the package, and picked up another letter.

__

Harry,

I know I haven't written in a while, but I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, since no one ever does over there. If you didn't know, there have been five attacks of muggles since the end of the school year. Five! My parents are really worried about me, and I'm really worried about what else might happen during this war. I know that I should really just think about the good things, but I got my Hogwarts letter today and I read the last page. Even the teachers are worried. It's making me nervous.

Otherwise, I've had a fine summer. I find it hard to write it, but it's true. I hope that some parts of Hogwarts stay the same, I don't want to feel like that I'll never feel safe. It's a weird feeling. Well, write me back soon, I want to know what's happening over there.

Love, Hermione

PS: Live life like you've never lived it before, you can't be in that depression of yours forever.

Harry sighed, tossed Hermione's letter to let it land on top of the rest, and picked up the last letter. He tore open the envelope also, and unfolded the piece of paper.

__

Harry,

How come you haven't been answering my letters lately? I know that Hermione probably didn't say it in her letter, but you haven't even said a thing back to her or me. Come on, stop being so depressed. Hogwarts will still be there. Write back. Please.

Ron

Harry threw Ron's letter degradingly on top of the rest of the papers. He picked out the list of supplies, folded it back up, and then shoved it into his pocket. He stared for a few moments at the pile of letters, which he really didn't want to read again, and got out of bed. He lifted up the loose floorboard and dug around in it. He then pulled out a small packet of matches and walked back over to his bed. He picked up the papers, stared for a moment, his brows furrowed together. He really couldn't talk to them now. He sighed, and slid out the little drawer of the match box. He took a match in his hand and struck it against the side of the box, and held it up to the papers. The papers went up in smoke, clouding the small room. Harry half-smiled as he dropped them in his empty trashcan, letting them smolder. Harry then turned away, the smile still lingering on his lips, for a bit at least. He didn't really care if the fire department came because of nothing. At least he didn't right now.

He flopped onto his bed, breathing in deeply the smell of burning parchment. The yells of his Uncle Vernon didn't even distract him as he closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head. He listened as three birds flew out of his window, all in a sudden hurry to leave his room. Smoke clogged his senses and he lost consciousness. It was the start of a beautiful day.

The flames had smoldered quickly, only leaving a very melted trashcan and a black spot on the floor. The punishment was less than expected, though. Paint the crown molding around the whole house, clean the kitchen and living room, weed the garden, and water all of the houseplants. Harry had gotten off easy, but Uncle Vernon was worried that if he ever so put a finger on the raven-haired boy, that somehow he would get murdered in his sleep, his throat slit. He didn't even think about how he could be killed with _magic_, it was just too much for him at the moment.

It was late morning when Harry set a foot out onto the green lawn. The drought had ended while he had been at Hogwarts, and everyone he could see from the lawn was either moving their luscious, green grass, or watering it. Harry rolled his eyes, and knelt down in the soft soil of the biggest flower garden in Privet Drive. Scornfully he tore a weed out of the garden, and tossed it in the grass to start to make his pile. His hands were not covered with gloves and the stickers of some plants dug into his flesh, and the blood mingled with the sweat that had started to accumulate on his arms. He armed off his forehead, and stopped for a few seconds.

His thoughts were cut off short by a tap on his shoulder. Without turning around, he sighed and continued with his weeding. There was another tap on his shoulder and a soft voice began to talk, and Harry, without meaning to, whipped around, and almost shouted at the girl. His hand had slashed through a rose bush, and thorns were caught in the tender skin of his palm. He winced, and dislodged his hand, and absentmindedly stared at the girl, a few fingers in his mouth as he tried to numb the stinging.

She smiled awkwardly. She had to be at least three years older than Harry himself, her hair a brilliant red, almost redder than one of the Weasleys, her skin pale and freckle covered. She wore a business outfit, a black skirt and a white blouse, an open jacket over that. She held out a hand, then retrieved it, smiling even more awkwardly. "I'm sorry to bother you.." she said, her pale blue eyes digging deep into his own. "But I was wondering if you knew where the Dursleys live. All they did was tell me that they lived on Privet Drive, not even a number. And well, you know how long this street is."

Harry almost scowled at her, even surprising himself, "They live _here_."

"Thank you." As she walked towards the front door, her heels clicked against the concrete. Harry armed off more sweat, and began to weed even more vigorously. His head shot up when he heard shouts from inside of the house, and he turned quickly toward it, his curiosity roused. A door slammed, and everything was silent. He pulled a couple more weeds, but then couldn't help it anymore. He sprinted over to the nearest window, which showed a perfect view of the living room. He peeked in.

The red-haired woman was now frazzled, it looked like. Her face was almost as red as the roots of her hair, and her fists were clenched. Blood dripped from her nose onto the white carpet, she didn't bother to even cup a hand underneath it.

Uncle Vernon could be seen in the doorway, leading to the entrance way, where the stairs were. Harry could see that his thick neck was also red, and he was shaking with rage. Aunt Petunia was no where to be seen at the moment. The shout was clear, "Dudley, get your ass down here this instant!" Uncle Vernon roared.

Harry raised his head to get a better look of the room. A lamp was broken and a chair over-turned, his eyes wandered around and were caught by those of the red-haired woman. She glared at him, her eyes dangerous. His forehead burned and he shouted out in pain, but his own yell was mused by that of his Uncle's. He fell back into the bushes and lay steaming for a while.

He rubbed his forehead feverishly. Maybe it was time he wrote his friends back.


End file.
